"How you come?" he asked with evident interest. Jeanne answered him, speaking rapidly, and at the end of a half-hour the man was in full possession of the details of their plight. He slowly shook his head.
"Moncrossen camp ver' far—feefty—seexty mile," he said. "You no mak'."
Bill looked up suddenly. "Have you a canoe?" he inquired.
The other looked at him in surprise. "Canoe, she no good!" he grunted. "Too mooch ice. Bre'k all to hell in one minute!"
With an exclamation he leaped to his feet. "By gar! De flat boat!" he cried triumphantly.
"She is all build for tak' de fur. De riv', she run ver' swift. In de morning you go—in de evening you come on de camp!"
"I will pay you well for the boat," said Bill eagerly. "I have no money here. Give me a pencil; I will write an order on Monsieur Appleton, the man who owns the woods."
At the words the half-breed shrugged.
"You no got for mak' write," he said. "You tell Wa-ha-ta-na-ta you come—by gar! You come! You tell me you pay—you pay. You no got for mak' write."
Bill smiled.